The Opening of Parliament
by LinZE
Summary: Set before, PD1, when Pierre and Philippe are still children. Something happens on the way to the Opening of Parliament that brings Clarisse and Joseph closer together. Also includes Rupert.


**THE OPENING OF PARLIAMENT****  
****Disclaimer: **if I were a fuzzy wuzzy bear... oh no, wait a minute, wrong tune. I own none of the characters, situations or scenes that you recognise. More's the pity. sigh  
**Summary: **Set before, PD1, when Pierre and Philippe are still children. Something happens on the way to the Opening of Parliament that brings Clarisse and Joseph closer together. Also includes Rupert.  
**A/N: **thanks to revsue as always for her help.

"Mother?" Pierre called out just as she was about to stand up and head for the door.

"Yes, Darling?" she asked, settling back down on the covers of her eldest son's bed and leaning forward to brush his damp curls out of his eyes. She had hoped that he had fallen asleep at last but apparently she had been mistaken.

"I'm hot… and my chest hurts." he complained wriggling between the sheets.

"I know darling, I'm sorry." she said reaching over for the damp flannel the nurse had been using to try and lower his temperature earlier.

"I don't like being sick." He sounded so young, like this, but then again he was only just ten after all. Both he and his brother had been sent back from school less than a week after they had left for the autumn term, when most of the children had come down with this summer flu.

"I know, but if you go to sleep I'm sure you'll feel better when you wake up." she said quietly, glancing across the room towards the other bed where eight year old Philipe was sleeping soundly.

They had gotten back home three days ago now and the younger boy was certainly on the mend though she had spent most of the first night up with him when he had refused to be read to by anyone other than his own Maman. However preparations were in full flow for the ceremonial opening of parliament the following day, and she had been in meetings most of the time, meaning that she'd only been able to pop in and out and say hello while their Nanny took care of them.

"Maman, will you stay with me tomorrow? Read to me?" he asked, his eyelids dropping until he started to cough. She helped him up and fed him a sip of water rubbing his back until the spasms had passed. "Please Maman?" he asked again quietly as she laid him back down.

"Oh Pierre – you know I have to go with your father to the opening of parliament." she said feeling horribly, horribly guilty. He looked up at her with those huge eyes of his and her heart broke. "But, I will come and see you first thing, and I shall see what I can do about a story." she smiled and ruffled his hair, urging him to sleep as she finally stood and headed for the door.

She headed straight for Rupert's office, knowing that he would likely still be going over his remarks for tomorrow. He always over-thought these occasions. Having knocked on the door, she opened it enough to stick her head in.

"Time for tea with your wife?" she asked when he looked up.

"Always," he replied taking off his glasses and standing up.

Once the tea tray had arrived and they were seated in the softer chairs positioned by the window in the evening sunshine, she poured and handed her husband a cup and saucer.

"How is the speech going?" she asked once they had shared a moments silence, he was tense she could see it in his shoulders and in his expression. Though theirs had been an arranged marriage, she was certainly fond of him and he had always treated well. That said, she didn't like to see him get so worked up.

"Oh it's fine, I think it's been fine for about the last two hours so you probably arrived at the right time to distract me. How are the boys doing?"

"Oh they will be all right. Philippe is doing much better than he was. Susanne said that he's slept most of today. Pierre was feeling quite sorry for himself this evening though," she said, toying with her cup. "He was asking if I would stay with him tomorrow." she said lightly, reaching out to refill her husband's cup.

"Well, that is just not possible." Rupert snapped.

"Isn't it?" she asked, her long marvelled patience coming to an end.

"Of course not. You have to come with me to the Opening of Parliament."

"But what real difference would it make if I weren't there this once?"

"Oh, don't be difficult, Clarisse. Tomorrow is the official opening of the Parliament. You and I will both ride on horseback around the prescribed route and go to the parliament where I will make a speech and hand over the floor to the Prime Minister and then we will host lunch. There are plenty of people here who will look after the boys."

"But they are MY boys Rupert! OUR boys, and Pierre is ill and he wants his Mother."

"Well his mother has a prior engagement. Look, Clarisse, you know how it is. We had this conversation about sending them to school. They'll be well looked after and you can visit them once we get back. I'm sure they'll understand."

"Well, they had better, hadn't they?" she said, suddenly struggling hugely not to burst into tears. It had been a long few days, she was tired, her head hurt and she was arguing with her husband over something she knew he would never capitulate on. "Goodnight." she murmured, standing up and leaving before she had a chance to make an even bigger fool of herself.

She was suddenly bone weary, and it was all she could do to resist the urge to just take off her shoes there and then. But somehow she managed to walk with her shoulders back and her head held high at least until she was shut away inside her rooms. They hadn't shared a bedroom for several years now and in some ways, Clarisse valued the privacy this afforded her more than almost anything else at times. She smiled at the security officer positioned outside her door as he turned the handle for her, letting her inside. Olivia, her ladies' maid, appeared from the bedroom and curtsied to her.

"I've just been setting everything out for tomorrow Your Majesty." she said with pride.

"Thank you Olivia." she murmured.

"What can I do for you Your Majesty?" she asked.

"Ah…" She tried to think what it was she wanted to do, she was exhausted but her mind was still reeling with her frustration at Rupert and her inadequacy as a mother. "… can you lay out my night things and then have some tea sent up – I'll be fine for tonight after that." she added, wandering in the direction of the chaise-lounge and falling rather ungracefully onto it. It was only when Olivia reappeared that she realised that she must have zoned out for several minutes.

"Are you all right Ma'am?" The younger woman asked quietly.

"Yes, thank you Olivia." she replied, trying to reassure her. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Your Majesty."

Clarisse waited until she was alone before pushing herself upright. It took her a moment to regain her balance and that was once she had stepped out of her heels. By the time she had reached her bedroom, though, she was beginning to think that perhaps there was something more wrong with her than just lack of sleep. Her head was pounding, and she was suddenly engulfed in that peculiar feeling where she couldn't quite decide whether she was far too hot or too cold. She headed for the bathroom, and turning on the cold tap, splashed her face with the water in an attempt to refresh herself. As she leaned up against the counter however, the uneasiness in her stomach developed into a wave of nausea that became increasingly obvious she was not going to be able to suppress. Kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, she was strangely reminded of many early afternoons she had spent in a similar position during the first few months of both of her pregnancies. At least in that instance though, she had usually only felt so sick for around an hour, however inconvenient the timing, but within the space of two hours, she had seemed to throw-up everything with the singular exception of her toenails.

She didn't sleep well, seeming to doze for only a few minutes at a time, and on several instances she had had to return to the bathroom to retch despite the fact that she knew there couldn't possibly be anything left for her to bring up. When the sun came up however, she was reassured that the nausea seemed to have subsided for the time being. As she sat in front of the mirror, she set about trying to resurrect something approximating her normal visage from the wreckage.

--

Joseph, as Deputy Head of Security, had been up for several hours, checking over the last minute preparations for today's ceremony. He had already driven around the route they would take to the parliament with Jean-Paul the member of the team who would drive behind the horseback procession, in case of emergency. Now, having checked in with the stables to see that preparations there were all going to plan and that his own ride for the day was fit and well, he was headed into the palace to track down the Queen, his sole charge from this point on. His first call was her rooms, which was usually where she could be found, immediately proceeding an event like today's Opening of Parliament. Olivia informed him however, that Her Majesty was almost ready but had gone to visit her sons once more before they had to leave. He thanked her and was about to leave when the maid called out to him. When he turned back, she was standing rather nervously, twisting her hands together.

"Olivia?" he encouraged.

"Well, I just wanted… that is to say… Well, the thing is – I thought you ought to know…"

"Thought I ought to know what?" he asked.

"I think you ought to know that I don't think that Her Majesty is very well." The maid said in a rush. "There's nothing concrete but she looks quite awful up close and she didn't touch her breakfast, not even her tea…"

"You think she might have caught whatever it is that the Princes' have?" He enquired.

"It's possible. But you know what she's like – I asked her if she was quite all right but she assured me she was fine. That she just hadn't slept terribly well."

"That's also a possibility." he acknowledged, trying to reassure her that it might not be as bleak as she seemed to think. "In any case, thank you for letting me know I'll be sure to keep a close eye on Her Majesty."

For all that he'd been placating the maid, he had acknowledge that if Olivia, who seemed to be rather intimidated of him, had felt the need to share her observations with him, then the chances were that the Queen was in fact significantly out of sorts. When he met her in the corridor just outside the Princes' nursery this suspicion was only reaffirmed.

"Your Majesty." he greeted, dipping his head in her direction.

"Joseph." she said quietly, offering him a rather pathetic version of her usual diplomatic smile. He took the opportunity to make a quick assessment of how she looked. She was indeed pale, and it certainly didn't look as though she had gotten much sleep. Neither of these conditions were made to appear any better by the fact that she was dressed in full riding regalia, including several layers of black ankle length skirt, a shirt and a fitted riding jacket. That said, her make-up was as impeccably well done as ever, even if it failed to entirely cover her pallor, and her hair was twisted into a neat bun at the base of her neck allowing for her riding hat so she was certainly properly turned out.

"How are you this morning Your Majesty?" he asked, as they set off down the stairs at a relatively sedate pace. She looked up at him and quirked a lip.

"Yes, Joseph, I am aware of the fact that I've looked better, but I assure you that though I didn't sleep particularly well, I am in fact quite fine."

"If you're sure, Your Majesty." he acquiesced.

"Oh bother, " she said, uncharacteristically sharply, once they had reached the lobby. "I've left my gloves up in my rooms." He watched the way she looked up at stairs with something akin to an air of defeat.

"Do you remember where in your rooms you left them?" he enquired.

"Well, Olivia handed them to me in the bedroom and then I went through to the sitting room and I went to look out a book for Pierre. I think that they might be on top of the bookcase." she said finally.

"In which case, I shall return with them shortly, ma'am." he said treating her to a small bow.

His own dress uniform impeded his progress up the stairs somewhat but they had plenty of time yet before they were due to depart. He met the King and his entourage on the second floor, which housed the royal quarters, and greeted his superior quietly as the Monarch stalked past, his attention obviously all on the cue cards he was holding. Stewart simply shook his head a little at the man in front of him. They all knew that King Rupert knew his speech and that it would go without a hitch but despite this and the fact that the man spoke publicly almost everyday, he always seemed to get incredibly worked up about the opening of parliament. In any case, Joseph hurried down the corridor and almost ran into Olivia as she opened the door, gloves in hand.

"Ah – I had just come looking for those." he said, taking them from her hand.

"I'm sorry – I only just noticed she'd left them."

"Not to worry." he reassured her. "Have a nice morning." he threw over his shoulder as he turned on the heel of his highly polished boot and headed back down to the lobby.

When he did arrive back, the King and Queen had their heads together in quiet conversation and it was plain to see that Her majesty was offering her husband a few reassuring words.

"Right – I think we're just about ready to go." The Head of Security declared coming up beside him. "The Guard are all mounted and ready to go and our horses are all tacked up."

"Good." he replied, slightly distractedly.

"Out of curiosity…" The older man began following his line of sight towards the Royal Couple. "Do you think Her Majesty is all right?"

"I'm not sure." Joseph sighed quietly, "She claims to have slept badly but her ladies' maid seemed to think it was more than that."

"Oh well, I trust you to keep an eye on her and you know the plan if one of them has to come back to the palace for some reason, don't you?"

"Of course. I went over it with Jean-Paul this morning, as it happens, too." he said.

"Shouldn't we be getting off?" The King called from where he stood, straightening his red jacket and pulling on his own ornate riding helmet.

"Of course, Your Majesty." Stewart replied. "The horses are ready and waiting. It's a glorious day outside and there were already crowds gathering when the Guard made their initial inspection of the route earlier."

"Your gloves, Ma'am." Joseph said, presenting her with the soft black leather gloves.

"Oh thank you, Joseph, I would be quite lost without you." came the gentle reply.

"All in the line of duty Your Majesty." he said lightly, as he followed her out into the sun.

She pulled on her helmet, and readjusted the velvet cover and peek before fastening it tightly beneath her chin and pulling on her gloves. Joseph descended the steps and watched as one of the grooms helped the Queen to mount the awkward side-saddle, hovering nearby as she rearranged her skirts before taking the reins. It was a well acknowledged fact in the royal house hold that Queen Clarisse did not like to ride in this fashion, and if truth were told, from his perspective as her personal bodyguard he disliked it also, if for no other reason than it would impede her ability to ride should the need arise for her to make a getaway. After all, when astride she was one of the best riders he had ever seen and could outrace and manoeuvre almost anyone.

It was a further ten minutes until the entire group was mounted and ready to move off and the palace gates opened, to a rush of applause from the gathered public. The Guard in their full regalia, looking almost as over dressed as he himself felt, set out first, their long lines winding along the main streets of the capital. Then came the King and Queen, riding adjacent and moving at a regally sedate pace, waving to their public as they made their way towards parliament. Joseph was following, to the left and a horse length behind his Queen so that he had a clear view of the crowds around them while the King's bodyguard mirrored his action to the right of the couple. Following at a snail's pace behind them was one of the shorter limousines and surrounding it another contingent of security personnel.

The round trip from the Palace back up to the Parliament, which was in essence really part of the same building, usually took the procession about 43 minutes to complete and after twenty Joe was beginning to wish that the weather hadn't been so fine. He was hot and would have paid good money to be allowed to wear his sunglasses to fend off the bright sun. He patted his steed absently as he made another inspection of the surroundings. They weren't expecting trouble but you never knew what could happen, and he had learned over the years that it was always better to be on guard. His gaze returned to the Queen's back after his inspection and he was somewhat surprised to see that her posture seemed to be slipping. She had been riding ramrod straight, shoulders back and chin up, just as he had come to expect of her on these occasions but over the past few minutes she seemed to have slipped a little in her saddle. He watched her out of the corner of his eye and then she lowered her hand with which she had been waving, to steady herself against her horse's neck. She tried to pass it off as a though she were merely patting the horse, but Joseph was not buying her performance. Having checked the surroundings once more, he gestured across the way to Stewart that he was going to move forward. He urged his mount onwards a little until he was riding almost parallel with Her Majesty. Now that he could see her face, his concern only grew. Any colour that had graced her skin before had certainly vanished and there was a distinctly feverish sheen to both her eyes and skin. She didn't appear to have noticed him, probably as it seemed to be taking all her effort to remain on her horse.

"Your Majesty?" he began to speak quietly, but then she shut her eyes and reeled quite dramatically. It was lucky that he moved in when he did, steering his steed in closer to her own, as only a moment later the Queen all but slid out off of her saddle.

Reaching out he managed to catch her and hoist her onto his lap with a minimum of fuss, but there was an immediate rise in the noise level around them as he automatically reached to undo the strap of her helmet and the top button of her shirt so that he could search for a pulse. After a moment he found it beating, thread-ily, beneath his fingertips and released a breath he didn't even realise he had been holding.

"Joe?" Stewart called over to him, remaining near where the King had pulled up. He nodded a fraction and then jerked his head in the direction of the car following. Receiving a supporting nod in return, Joseph turned his horse, and, using one arm to ensure that the Queen was secure against his chest, he moved back up the now still procession towards the blacked out car. Two of the officers on foot moved in and held out their arms so that he could lift his burden down before dismounting himself. They appeared to be remembering their training as someone opened the back door of the car and as gently as they were able bundled Her Majesty inside. He handed his reins to one of the men and entered the car to find young Vernet looking rather bashful about trying to arrange the still unconscious queen on the back seat. He looked relieved to see his superior, and took a step back to allow him to kneel next to the leather seat.

Placing his hand on her forehead, Joseph was not entirely surprised to find that she was burning up. However, he was concerned by quite how warm she was and the fact that she had yet to regain consciousness.

"Your Majesty?" he tried, tapping her cheek. Receiving no reply, he tried again and this time she began to stir a little. Shuffling back a little, he found a bottle of water from the fridge and pulling out his handkerchief, dampened it and placed it on her brow causing her eyes to flicker. "That's it, Your Majesty." he said quietly. Continuing to wipe down her face, he called over his shoulder, "Jean-Paul – call ahead to the palace and tell them that we're returning and ask them to send for the Queen's physician."

"Yes, sir," Came the rapid response from the driver's seat.

"Jaque!" he called one of the staff he knew had helped lower the Queen from his horse. Vernet, who had surprisingly adeptly exited the car but remained blocking the interior from the view of the crowds outside, stepped aside, letting the other man peer inside.

"Sir?"

"Go forward and tell Stewart and the King that the Queen is unwell and that we're returning to the palace. There's no reason why you shouldn't continue on the way and I'll ensure that there's an update left for you when you arrive at the parliament. "

"Yes Sir." Jaque replied, before standing back and moving away.

Turning back to the Queen, Joseph was reassured to see that she seemed to be waking up.

"Your Majesty?" She groaned a little, shifting where she was lying. "Clarisse?" he tried again.

"Uh… Joseph…" she said, attempting to push herself up.

"Easy there…" he urged, pushing her back down.

"Wha… I…?" she asked, obviously quite disorientated, as the car began to move off.

"You passed out, Your Majesty. We were on our way to the opening of parliament…"

"Oh… Rupert!" she said suddenly, trying to push herself upright.

"The King has continued on with the procession – I really think you would be better lying down." He urged, as any colour she might have regained drained from her face.

Joseph knew the route back to the palace like the back of his hand and tried to establish exactly where they were as they turned through the tightly winding streets of Pyrus.

"Your Majesty?" he asked, as her eyes seemed to roll back. He eased her back down onto the seat and, reaching down, opened one of the storage compartments beneath the bench to pull out a blanket. Folding it roughly, he slid it underneath her feet to prop her legs up to hopefully help increase the blood flow to her head. She was shivering now, but the heat still radiating from her was enough to confirm that she certainly wasn't cold.

"What's our ETA?" he asked over his shoulder.

"A minute… two tops." came the reply as the driver glanced back at them in the rear-view mirror.

"Sor…" she began after a moment, "Sorry Joseph..."

"Shhh…" he encouraged. "…there's nothing to be sorry for – let's just try and concentrate on getting you better." she smiled rather feebly at him, before reaching down, obviously attempting to remove her riding jacket.

"Here, let me…" he offered, lifting away her trembling fingers and helping her slip out of her sleeves.

"Thank you."

"Just doing my duty, Your Majesty." he replied, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Somehow…" she began, somewhat hazily, and Joseph reached out wipe down her brow again. "I suspect that there wasn't… wasn't anything in your contract to do with fainting queens." she murmured and he was somewhat shocked when a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. "I don't suppose…" she continued softly, "that there's actually a pneumatic drill in here with us."

"I'm afraid not." Joseph replied, re-wetting the cloth and applying it to her forehead.

"Thought as much." This time she barely breathed it, her face screwed up in obvious discomfort.

"Hang on…" he said almost absently as he glanced out of the window. "…we're almost back home." As the gates swung open, he felt a huge wave of relief.

Once they rolled to a stop, one of the footmen opened the door and, with a little help, Joseph got himself out and hoisted the Queen into his arms. She shifted a little, turning so that her head was resting against his shoulder and yet again he was struck by just how warm she was. Michael met them at the foot of the steps, a concerned look marring his face.

"We saw what happened – it's all over the television." Joseph merely grunted in reply, suddenly acutely aware of the tension ebbing out of the figure he was carrying. The PA glanced down at his Queen and then up towards the Head of Security. "Olivia's upstairs waiting and the Doctor's on his way." The other man continued more softly, and with a final glance at the now almost unconscious Clarisse, turned and led them up towards the door.

--

Rupert finished his speech and stood for a moment, accepting the applause of the parliament. Despite the disruption on their journey, it had gone relatively well as far as he could judge, and he felt some of the tension that had been building within him over the previous week dissipate. Once he sat down, settling himself to listen to the Prim Minister's response, he was acutely aware of the empty seat next to him. Michael appeared next to him, moments later and handed him a slip of paper. He nodded his head to his PA almost imperceptibly before the other man fell back and he opened the sheet on his lap. The writing was concise and to the point;

_Her Majesty arrived back and was taken to her chambers._

_Her physician is currently attending to her._

Closing it, he turned his attention back to the Prime Minister though his mind really wasn't on the other man's words. He was certain that his wife would be fine – she wasn't a fragile woman and if asked to guess, he probably would suggest that the reason for her fainting was likely to be due to her skipping breakfast. It certainly wouldn't surprise him if she had done so in favour of spending a little more time with the boys. This thought sparked a little remorse on his part for his sharp words with her the previous evening. He hadn't intended to sound as harsh as he suspected he had, and he was certainly observant enough to have noticed that she hadn't been best pleased when she had left his office. None the less, he stood by his point – the nature of their roles meant that they simply could not be 'normal' parents. As it had turned out, Clarisse was not in fact attending the ceremony after all. He supposed that had he been more suspicious of her, he might have suspected her motives but he knew her better than that, and trusted her implicitly. Besides, now that he looked back on their interaction of that morning, she had been terribly pale and quiet.

The sound of applause drew him out of thoughts of seeing his wife as she slipped from her saddle, before he even realised that he was replaying the scene over and over in his mind's eye. Joining in, he prepared to leave, aware of the weight of his crown, which had replaced his riding hat earlier. As they all moved through to the ballroom for pre-lunch drinks, he sought out Michael and caught his eye.

"Will Clarisse be joining us for lunch?" he asked in a hushed whisper once the other man had made it over to his side. His assistant looked slightly surprised by his question.

"I wasn't under the impression that she intended to but I could go and check if you would like. The Doctor's still with her I think…"

"No," Rupert said, placing a lightly restraining hand on Michael's arm. "no, don't bother them. I would like an update once the Doctor's done though."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

It was late afternoon before the last of the parliamentarians and their spouses had left the palace and Rupert was free to retreat to the family quarters. Having changed out of his ceremonial uniform, he made his way along to his wife's room. Joseph was standing guard next to the door – not usually a post the Deputy Head of Security manned himself.

"How is she?" The King asked as Joe nodded to him in his approach.

"Sleeping as far as I'm aware, Sir." He replied.

"Good, that's good." Rupert returned absently, his mind drawn to the rather unnerving report that his aide had brought him during lunch. "I wanted to say thank you for your quick reactions earlier – I hate to think what damage Clasrisse might have managed to do to herself, had you not caught her."

"Just doing my job, Your Majesty." Rupert had to smile at this, he liked Joseph, liked the way that he worked, and certainly couldn't fault the care the other man took over his wife's safety. As he crossed her living room he met the maid carrying a porcelain basin of water who stopped to curtsey to him. He nodded his acknowledgement and she scurried off, leaving him to enter his wife's bed chamber alone. Closing the door quietly behind him, he turned to get a proper look at his wife. The curtains were drawn across the full-length windows, and the room was shrouded in shadows so that it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of light. Clarisse was lying in the centre of the bed, the sheets bunched around her suggesting she had been tossing and turning and her arm thrown up on the pillow next to her head. There was a chair next to the bed and he pulled it closer before sitting, unable to tear his eyes away from her pale face. There were distinctive fevered flares marring her cheeks and dark circles beneath her eyes both of which did nothing to improve how vulnerable she looked. At some stage, Olivia, that was the maid's name he recalled, had changed her into her nightwear and removed her make-up but he could see that the satin was already sticking to her clammy skin.

From what his aide had reported, the Doctor had concluded that Clarisse had caught whatever it was that the boys had brought back from the school, which shouldn't have been terribly surprising considering how busy she had been and how much time she had spent comforting them. Certainly looking at her now he felt another pang of guilt. From what he gathered, his wife had been unwell throughout the night, in which case she should never have been out on horseback toady. Rupert couldn't help but feel his words of the previous evening had only encouraged her. She stirred and leaning forward he brushed the hair off her brow.

"Shhh…" he said quietly and after a moment she settled again but he continued to stroke her cheek gently. The door behind him opened again with a soft click, and when he turned he saw Joseph hold the door for the young woman, who had returned with fresh water.

"Joe, Olivia." he greeted, standing up and pushing back his chair.

"Your Majesty." The maid replied, placing the porcelain basin on a mat on the bedside table, before turning and curtseying again. He watched silently as the maid dampened the cloth she had draped over her forearm and wringing it out, set about wiping down Her Majesty's face.

"Your Majesty," Joseph said quietly, trying to get his attention. "Michael asked me to inform you that the papers for the diplomatic meetings next week have arrived." Rupert resisted the urge to sigh but instead simply pulled himself upright and leaned over to kiss his wife chastely on the cheek before following the Deputy Head of Security out.

The evening disappeared in preparations for the weeklong conference in Paris for which he was to depart the following morning. Before he headed to bed however, the Genovian King made time to visit with his family. Both his sons and his wife were fast asleep when he opened their bedroom doors and though he leaned in to kiss all three on the forehead, he took pains not to wake them. The following morning he rose, showered and dressed before making his customary inspection of his luggage, though he had every faith in his valet. Moving through to his living room, he found breakfast had already been set up. As he sat, he noted absently they one of the staff had taken the initiative and only laid the table for one. He poured himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of muesli before opening his copy of the Genovian Tribune and settling down to enjoy a few quiet moments before the day truly began. Almost a quarter of an hour later, it was the sound of the door opening that drew his attention away from a rather interesting article discussing some of the more unusual events that had happened on previous State occasions.

"Clarisse?" he couldn't help but exclaim at the sight of his wife in the doorway. He certainly hadn't expected to see her at breakfast and certainly not fully dressed. "What on earth are you doing up?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his napkin before standing and moving towards her. She had almost fallen back against the door, as apposed to closing it, and now she was leaning heavily on the mahogany sideboard next to it, her face flushed, and shining with perspiration. As he neared, he was slightly shocked to hear that there was a rattle beneath her shallow breaths.

"Paris…" She said, looking up at him, confusion marring her face. "...We leave for Paris today… 8 a.m. …" Her eyes were searching his face as he reached forward, taking a strong grip of her elbows, concerned that she wouldn't be able to hold herself up for much longer.

"I might be going to Paris this morning but the only place you are going, my dear, is back to bed." he said softly but firmly.

"But…" she began, leaning into him, her equilibrium seeming to falter.

"But nothing. I am quite certain that you will be sorely missed, by all parties, but you are really quite ill and I am certain that you shouldn't be up and about. Now, let's get you back along to your rooms and into bed and I might just have time to tuck you and the boys in before I have to leave." she sagged at this.

"Just… give me minute… please?" she asked. "It took rather a lot out of me… getting here." He smiled in response and helped her towards a seat a few meters away, all the while wondering how on earth no one had managed to intercept her before she had dressed and made it all the way to his rooms.

As if on cue there was a knock at the door, and Joseph's head appeared.

"Come in, come in." he urged.

"Good morning, Your Majesties." The other man said, inclining his head towards him, and then Clarisse.

"I'm assuming that you've come in search of my wife?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I was off duty…" The King brushed away the other man's apology, knowing that he had to sleep at some stage. "…I only just arrived to find a rather distraught Olivia. I believe Her Majesty might have given her quite a scare."

"Hmmm," he said, not finding it particularly hard to believe that his wife's young and relatively new ladies' maid would have found the situation quite hard to deal with.

"I've sent her off to bed, she's been up most of the night…" Joseph continued. "and the Doctor's due to visit shortly."

"Well, then, we had better get you back to bed, hadn't we, Clarisse?" he said, gently stroking the side of her face. She was leaning up against his waist as though her head was too heavy to hold up.

"Joseph? Would you…?" he asked, once he had got her to her feet.

"Of course, Sir." Joseph said, crossing the room in two long strides and going to her other side, wrapping his arm around her waist.

It took them a few minutes to walk the length of the hallway, and the further they went, the more of Clarisse's weight they seemed to carry. Eventually, however, they managed to sit her down on her bed, and Rupert sat next to her, his wife leaning against him.

"I'll get her back into her pyjamas," He told her bodyguard. "if you go and check to see if the Doctor has arrived." Catching the other man's eye before he continued, he hoped to be able to convey his concern as he added that he would like to speak with the physician before he had to leave for France. In Joseph's typically understated way, he merely nodded before leaving them alone.

"Now Clarisse," he said softly once they were alone. "let's get you into something more comfortable."

--

Joseph had been quite alarmed when he had entered Her Majesty's rooms to find her ladies' maid quite obviously very distressed and on the verge of tears. It had taken a full minute for him to get the girl to tell him what was wrong, the whole experience having seemed to frighten her somewhat, and he could certainly understand that. He had been working for the palace for eight years and had been Her Majesty's personal bodyguard for four, and he still sometimes found it hard to judge what was appropriate or perhaps more importantly, what he could get away with. The Queen was fiercely independent at times, and though she fulfilled her role admirably and was well liked by all, she could be _difficult_ to deal with when she got an idea stuck in her head as, it seemed, she had that morning. That said, he could only imagine the poor girl's dilemma when faced with Her Majesty declaring that she was going to get up, dress and go to breakfast with her husband and that her bags should be packed for their trip to Paris.

"I…I tried to leave… told her I had to go fetch something so that… I could find you or…or… Michael… but…"

"Don't worry yourself Olivia. I'm sure you did the best that you could…" He had found himself once more reassuring her. "Were you here all night?" he asked, working on a hunch, and had it confirmed when she nodded.

"I didn't think she ought to be left alone…"

"Well, in that case, take yourself off and get some sleep, and I'll see about getting someone to help you… after I've tracked down Her Majesty." And with that he had ushered the teary woman out of the door and had headed straight for the King's chambers. The King and Queen generally had breakfast together every morning, and during the holidays their boys joined them, and so he had made the assumption that that was where she had headed this morning. He had not been mistaken, though it became clear from the moment that he had stepped through the door, that Her Majesty should never have left her bed that morning.

Once he had left King Rupert to see to his wife, he sought out Michael to establish when exactly the Queen's physician was to be expected and once he did arrive, escorted him straight up to Her Majesty's suite. He waited outside the door until Michael arrived, indicating that it was time for them to leave for the airport.

"Joseph," the King said, drawing him off to one side and speaking quietly. "I've spoken with the Doctor, and he is somewhat concerned by my wife's state. She's running a particularly high fever and she isn't managing to keep any fluids down at the moment." Joseph nodded, certainly understanding why this would be a further cause for concern. "In any case, I would really appreciate it if you kept watch over her in my absence. I think she's already proven that she can be quite wilful at times but I don't want her ignoring doctor's orders because everyone is too scared to pull her up on it. Besides, you seem to have a talent for managing her. I've seen you at it and if anyone is going to succeed in this venture, then it's you."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll certainly do my best." he said, slightly shocked by the weight of responsibility that he felt falling on his shoulders. It was one thing to be responsible for stopping anyone else from harming the Queen but to be asked by her husband to look after her while she was ill seemed like a huge step up.

The following week was one of the more stressful of his career, somewhat surprisingly as Her Majesty never left the security of the palace. The day after he had departed, Joseph had the dubious honour of explaining to His Majesty that his wife had been placed on a drip for the time being to try to stop her from becoming too dehydrated, though he managed to temper the news with that of his sons' rapid improvement. Over the next four days, the Doctor visited regularly as the Queen's temperature continued to spike but by the time the following weekend arrived, it seemed that she was finally on the mend. Unfortunately this was the point at which the Deputy Head of Security's job became that much more difficult. On Sunday, Pierre and Phillipe were to leave to return to school, but after Phillipe had decreed that he would not leave until he had seen his Maman, Clarisse had also stated that she too would like to see them. Joseph had watched from the background for several minutes, as she had tried to argue with Olivia and Pricilla that she was really well enough to go sit in the living room to receive her sons, but when her argument was cut short by a violent bout of coughing, he intervened.

"Your Majesty," he began stepping out of the shadows, "perhaps it would be wiser, that you remain in bed. After all, it would be a shame if you were to tire yourself simply by the process of moving through…" She looked at him for a moment.

"I suppose you have a point." she said with a grimace. "But let's get rid of some of this medical paraphernalia that's worked its way in here." She continued, gesturing to the drip stand that still stood in a corner despite the fact it had been removed more than twenty-four hours ago. "Joseph, would you open the curtains? I don't want this to look like a sick room." He was tempted to raise an eyebrow at this, but restrained himself for the sake of trying to avoid aggravating Her Majesty. He left the maids propping her up in bed and went to retrieve the two boys from their nursery. There was an odd combination of nervousness and excitement in the boys as the three of them entered their mother's living room.

Despite her earlier protests, it was clear that after less than quarter of an hour, the Queen was struggling to deal with their animated chatter.

"Gentlemen," Joseph interrupted as they began to bounce up and down on the bed, with the excitement of explaining an upcoming sports day at school, "I think perhaps you have worn your mother out…" The boys objected a little but what told him more was that their mother did not. "So I would suggest you say goodbye and then I think Susanne has your supper waiting for you in the kitchen."

"Yes, Joseph." they said in more or less unison before scrambling up the covers to hug their mother.

"Now you both better behave." she warned, pushing them back a little so that she could watch them. "Yes?" They nodded. "You go and make your father and I very proud."

"Yes, Maman."

"I love you…"

"Right, you two…" he said, seeing that Her Majesty was struggling.

"Goodbye." she said, somewhat forlornly as the door shut behind them.

"I'm afraid Olivia and Pricilla have gone for their dinner as well," He told her once they were alone. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked, automatically refilling her glass of water, knowing that they were still pushing her to keep drinking.

"No, thank you, Joseph," she said with a soft smile. "Take a seat though," she continued indicating that he should draw up a chair, "it feels like an age since I've had a conversation that didn't include the words; 'How are you feeling, Your Majesty? Can I get anything for you, Your Majesty?' and I think I am about to go mad."

"Understandable, given the circumstances." he pointed out, taking the opportunity, now that there was more light in the room, to get a better look at her. He had to admit that he understood her sons' initial hesitation when they had entered as, without makeup and sitting in the centre of her bed, she still looked horribly ashen. Joseph was also quite shocked at just how fragile she seemed. Over the last week, the Queen, who had always been slim, had obviously lost weight that she simply did not have to spare.

"Have you spoken to Rupert yet today?" she asked, smoothing out her covers. "I know that he's been keeping in touch with you even if he hasn't spoken with me." Joseph smiled at this.

"Not yet, Your Majesty, and I have to inform you that he has asked about speaking to you several times over the last few days. However, it would seem his timing is out as you've always been asleep at the time and he declined my offer to wake you."

"Oh well," she said with a tired smile, "he is due back tomorrow, isn't he? Or am I getting my days confused?"

"No, Your Majesty, tomorrow is Monday and King Rupert is expected back in time for lunch."

"Good, good…" she murmured obviously on the cusp of sleep once again. "… I can't believe it's been almost a week…"

"Indeed." he agreed, pushing his chair back quietly and moving across the room to shut the heavy drapes again.

The King's imminent arrival home had the castle in something of a bustle all morning, which only heightened when the news came that Genovia 1 had landed. The Queen's suite was no exception to that, Joseph had watched Olivia and Pricilla running back and forth all morning and though he wasn't certain what it was that they were doing, he let them get on with it.

"Thank you, Ladies, " He heard Her Majesty's voice from her room. "you may leave now." The two of them scurried out past him, just before the King rounded the corner.

"Joseph." He greeted him warmly. "How are you and my dear wife getting along?"

"We're still talking, Your Majesty." he replied lightly.

"Well that's always a good start." The monarch replied, chuckling. "How is she doing?" he asked more sombrely.

"Much better." he replied honestly. "You spoke to the doctor on Saturday?"

"Yes."

"Well, she's still coughing but I think the biggest obstacle is just how quickly she tires." he said quite honestly.

"Well, we'll see. There's certainly no need to rush her." Joseph opened the door and on His Majesty's urging, followed him into his wife's suite.

"Rupert!" she said lightly, from where she stood in the doorway to her room. Though she had forgone making herself up and her hair was pulled back simply, Her Majesty had dressed in casual slacks and a fine-knit cashmere cardigan. Though naturally seeing her up and dressed was an improvement, the fact that her clothes were all but hanging off her did nothing to make her seem healthy.

"Good gracious, Clarisse!" the King exclaimed, presumably thinking the same thing. He closed the distance between them and took her by her shoulders kissing her gently on the cheek before taking a step back and looking at her again.

"I know. I know." she said smiling and shrugging her shoulders. "I've lost weight – but I guess that's a side-effect of not being terribly well. I shall have to remember that the next time I can't fit into something."

"The only time I have ever seen you struggle to fit into something was when you were pregnant my dear, and that simply doesn't count." She laughed at this, but allowed him to take her arm and escort her over to the sofa.

"Well, in any case, I'm sure I'll put it all back on again in a flash but in the meantime I saw my dressmaker this morning and she's taking in a few things so that I can at least look presentable until then."

"You would look beautiful in a coal sack, Clarisse. None the less we do need to feed you up."

"Yes sir." she replied giving him a mock salute. "Come, take a seat, Joseph. He's been an absolute rock Rupert, I swear he's kept me sane." she continued to her husband.

"Good, I'm glad. Now, how about lunch? Then Joseph can enlighten me as to your behaviour." The subsequent draining of colour from Her Majesty's face at the mention of food was enough indication to both men that her road to recovery was a long way from over.

Throughout the following week, Her Majesty was seen to be progressing nicely. However, although she began to eat again and to venture into her office to see to some of the paperwork that was mounting there, all of her engagements were cancelled until the following weekend. On Sunday morning, the Royal Couple both attended the usual church service, where much more attention was paid to them than on most Sundays. Despite the press releases that Michael's office had been posting as to her condition since the incident in the middle of Pyrus, Joseph had a hard job fending off interested reporters as the two of them ascended the stone steps. Once the service was over, the King and Queen processed up the aisle following the Archbishop and as Joseph watched them, he immediately spotted that His Majesty had his arm around his wife, no-doubt offering her more support than usual. As Stewart held one door of the car open for the King, Joseph helped his charge inside before closing the door again carefully and stepping forward to take his seat up front. Glancing up into the rear-view mirror he caught sight of the way that the King lifted up an arm to let his wife make herself more comfortable against his shoulder. Joseph had had to warn them as they approached the palace gates, allowing him to wake his wife and allow her to pull herself together before they exited. Traditionally, the palace hosted Sunday lunches as an opportunity for the King to honour various individuals who needed to be accorded some kind of acknowledgement for whatever reason. This week, however, Rupert had put his foot down and declared that his wife should go take an afternoon nap rather than play hostess.

That autumn was a strange one for rather a lot of the palace staff. Queen Clarisse was certainly not known to be a delicate woman; she was not prone to becoming ill simply because of being caught in the rain, or because she hadn't had her eight hours of sleep the previous night. However, over the next three months, she never quite seemed to shake the remnants of the virus with which she had been struck down. She continued to tire quickly, would start to cough if she spent too long outside in the damp, and despite everyone's best intentions, she did not regain most of the weight she had lost. Michael was dealing with her schedule while her own PA was on maternity leave, and cherry picked engagements for her, while Joseph was told in no uncertain terms by the King that he had veto on anything. On several occasions he had had to make use of the power as well, when he saw her struggling or when the weather was certainly not conducive to keeping her healthy. Sometimes his gentle cough from behind her earned him a grateful smile in return, on other occasions, looks that could have stopped a lesser man at twenty paces. None the less, during these weeks, he grew closer to his charge. Their friendship blossomed further out of mutual respect and so naturally, he was concerned as winter began drawing in and predictably the season's ailments began to appear amongst the staff and the population in general.

It was the return of the two young Princes for the holidays, however, that really marked the turning point. Joseph had been more than mildly amused as he had watched the Queen pacing anxiously up and down the foyer, her heels clacking on the marble floor while she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her dress. The transformation that came over her face when they stepped out of the snow was both instantaneous and dramatic.

"Maman!" Phillipe called running towards her open arms while Pierre tried to look much more grown up and sophisticated, sauntering towards her before throwing himself into her arms.

"Oh, my darling boys, I missed you so much." she murmured into their hair as she held them close. "And how much you've grown!" she said, standing up and taking a better look at them. Joseph chuckled as both boys lifted their heads up as if trying to prove her point and look as tall as they possibly could.

"And do I not get to say welcome home?" King Rupert's voice, softened with amusement, came from the stairs as he descended, his aide behind him with an armful of files.

"Good afternoon Papa." Both boys said, almost standing to attention. The King's mouth twitched before spreading into a smile as he too opened his arms to his sons.

Over the next two weeks wherever the Princes were to be found, out in the gardens, or in the kitchens, or in their playroom, more often than not their mother was not far away. Michael said more than once that he'd never seen her being so efficient at completing her paperwork as she was when it was all that was stopping her from spending time with her children. But rather than wearing her out and leaving her susceptible to catching something else, as they had all feared to begin with, it seemed that the Queen was healthier than she had been in months. Joseph couldn't have been happier to see her bloom once more, and over the festive season, more than once he found himself caught in the middle of the family's activities. Acting, the Queen informed him, as her substitute when her children hid in a snow drift and waited until the King walked past to pelt him with snowballs, was perhaps one of the most extreme examples. In hindsight, he could barely believe that he'd had the gall to stand there with a straight face and inform his Monarch that he was merely following the King's own orders and acting to the best of his ability to maintain the Queen's health, while Her Majesty, watched over them all from the warmth of the palace, plainly in fits of hysterics. Luckily the other man had taken the incident in good humour, and Joseph had not been hung from his toes in the courtyard.

It wasn't until a week after the children had returned to school however, that he got confirmation of what he had suspected and what would mark a significant milestone in the completion of Her Majesty's recovery.

"Joe!" Olivia whispered, all but pulling him backwards off his feet as he turned to follow the Queen out of her rooms one morning. "Sorry," she apologised as he straightened himself out. "I just thought you might like to know that she's finally gained that weight back. She's back into her old wardrobe." The young girl said, with a look of genuine pleasure obvious on her face.

"Good. That's certainly reassuring…" he agreed, struggling to identify the slightly strange feeling that seemed to mar his own relief at this news.

With the new year also came the return to work of the Queen's personal assistant and both this and her recovery seemed to indicate that Joseph's role would shrink back to its original remit. That said, over the following weeks it became plain to him that the rest of the staff still saw him as someone who had Her Majesty's ear. He found himself being the one to seek her out when she was frustrated at Parliament or Rupert or anyone else for that matter and try to calm the waters. He was also the one to whom she turned to, to sound things out, or to vent her anger when she was being cordial and civil to the rest of the world. Even the King acknowledged their growing friendship; taking him to one side at a gathering for the staff on Easter weekend, and thanking him quite openly for being there to support her when he could not be.

"It's my pleasure, Your Majesty." He mumbled in response not knowing quite what else to say.

"She is a remarkable woman." Came the equally quiet response. "But I think you know that, don't you Joseph?" his Majesty continued in his perfectly friendly tone. Joseph swallowed, his mind freezing, struggling to understand. "What do you say to a toast Joseph?" The other man continued, catching his eye and smiling. "To Clarisse." As the King lifted his glass, Joseph automatically reciprocated, repeating his toast. His saving grace came as the woman in question swept across the room.

"Come dance with me Rupert? I like this one." She asked, putting her glass down on a nearby table.

"Why don't you take Joseph out for a spin? My sources tell me he's quite a Fred Astaire."

"Joseph?" She asked, turning to him, a hand extended and smile gracing her lips.

"Of course, Your Majesty." He said bowing a little.

"Joseph." She scolded with a slight scowl, "we've had this conversation and we're not really in public here." She continued, as she led him out into the middle of the floor.

"No," he replied as she placed her hand on his waist, "no we're not. Not really Clarisse."

**A/N2: **well I hope you enjoyed this – do hope you let me know either way. It was intended to be a one off however the bunnies are attacking yet again and it looks like there may be sequels to come….

If you ask nicely -grin-

xLx


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